His face flashes hot and ugly in my mind. The utility closet. The way he could make a whole life sound like a locked door with his fists.
My jaw tightens.
“He’s gone now.”
Not dead. Notgonegone. But gone from me. From my decisions. From the shape of my days.
There’s a savage kind of relief in that. It sits heavy and bright in my chest, right next to the ache.
I pull in a slow breath and let it out shakily.
“I almost died.”
The cemetery stays quiet. A breeze moves through the trees overhead, stirring the dandelions.
“I know that’s a strange thing to say first.” My mouth tips without humor. “I’m not very good at this.”
My fingers curl lightly against the stone.
“I got shot. Which feels dramatic, honestly. I think you’d tell me to stop being so stubborn about hospitals.” A beat. “He definitely did.”
He.
I glance over my shoulder before I can stop myself.
Maksim is still by the bike. Arms folded. Head slightly bowed like he’s giving me distance, but his attention never really leaves me. It never does now.
Not since the hospital. He stayed wrapped around me like he thought if he let go for one second I’d stop breathing. My chest does something strange and soft and painful all at once.
When I look back at the grave, my voice comes quieter.
“There’s someone.”
I let that sit there a second, absurdly aware of how stupid I feel saying it out loud to a headstone.
But also not stupid at all.
Because if there is anyone in the world I want to tell, it’s her.
“He’s…” I stop, because where do I even start with a man like Maksim Korsakov?
Terrifying. Violent. Loyal in a way that borders on madness. Tender in ways he’d probably rather die than hear said aloud.
Mine.
I press my lips together.
“He’s difficult,” I say finally. That almost makes me laugh.
“He’d hate that description, so I’m keeping it.”
The wind picks up, brushing hair across my cheek. I tuck it back and keep staring at her name.
“He’s not kind in the way people mean it when they say the word. He’s not gentle either. He’s possessive and infuriating and completely insane.” My mouth twitches. “Then again, you were with Baba, so you might actually like him.”
I lower my gaze to my hands.
“There are times he’s made me so angry I could barely breathe.” I huff a little laugh. “And there are times I look at him and think he’s shown me colors I never would’ve seen without him.”
